


Phone Shenanigans

by LadyScale



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Accents, Adult Content, Anal Sex, Australia, Body Hair, Camper Van, Campy, Cell Phones, Cigarettes, Collars, Condoms, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fold out Bed, Foreplay, French Characters, French Kissing, Funny, Gloves, Hilarious, Homosexuality, Humor, Interrupted, Licking, Lube, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Meeting the Parents, Necks, Nipple Play, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Play Pretend, Playful Sex, Pretending to Be a Woman, Rating: NC17, Riding, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Sexy, Sexy Times, Smile, Sniper's Camper Van, Spies & Secret Agents, Suits, Swearing, Technological Kink, Technology, Ties & Cravats, Undershirts, Undressing, Voice Acting, Voice Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyScale/pseuds/LadyScale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As welcomed as the phone that rings during ‘happy times’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a parodied 60s timeline about top secret organizations with access to teleporters and huge rockets hidden in their basements, what’s the fact that mobile phones became widely available only years afterward?
> 
> Disclaimer: Team Fortress 2 belongs to Valve, and I don't make any money from writing this fic.

Sniper inhaled deeply trying to control himself as Spy kept on licking his neck, sending pleasant tingles down his back. Oh that cunning sexy bastard. Several months now and they still couldn’t get enough of each other! No matter how many times the spook smoothes his hands through the australian’s hair, or how many times the Sniper nips at the other’s earlobe through the mask, no matter how many times they shag one another, they keep coming back for more.

There they were, on the foldout bed in Sniper’s camper van, Spy on top and both were making out like there’s no tomorrow. The huntsman’s hat and aviator glasses were laying on the nightstand and the shirt and leather vest were cast aside all but forgotten, leaving Sniper with his wifebeater up to his armpits, it too ready to be taken off.

Spy was in a pretty similar condition, with his tie hanging loosely around his shoulders and his dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal his pale chest, the pinstripe suit jacket and vest hastily folded on the floor off the side of the mattress. The wifebeater immediately took its place next to them.

Both of them are groaning, one trying to wrestle and pin the other on the bed. “Ooh yeah.” Sniper gasped as the frenchman unzipped his pants and slipped his gloved hands in to grope at his rear, and was just about ready to take the pants off altogether when suddenly.

*Riiing!*

“Que?” Spy jumped in surprise.

*Riiing!* there it goes again. Sniper sat up and stretched to grab his vest, feeling up the pockets before pulling out the source of the noise.

Spy sighted loudly. “Who eez calling?” he asked as the other man glanced at the little viewscreen on the phone before scrunching his eyes closed, swearing softly. “Oh bugger. It’s me parents.” and hesitated before saying “Listen. Sorry, but I’ve got ta’ take this one.”

Spy just stared dumbfounded at the full-grown hairy-chested and stubble-chinned adult. “You steel haf links with your peers??” he almost sneered.

*Riiing!* said the phone.

Sniper just shushed to the other man before he answered to the device. “Allo?”

“Zut alors.” Said man felt like facepalming in annoyance but held his temper in check and slid off the bushman to sit on the side of the bed.

“Oh hey, mum. Yea. I’m awright. Any news? …Aha. …uh-huh. Roight… Oh serious? Naw. They didn’. …They did? Crikey! Them had kangaroos loose in their top paddock, Ahm tellin’ ya! …yeah.”

“Oh merde.” Spy said under his breath as he leaned down to his jacket to retrieve the cigarette case from the pocket, but then was upset to find he had only two sticks left. If he took one now, that meant he’d have even less for later when he could really need it. He closed the case with a huff deciding to just wait it out.

Sniper kept chattering away at the space-age device he recently got. A Mobile Phone - a telephone you can carry around with you. Curious machine. Being part of a top class organization does have its perks. Engineer, connoisseur of electronics that he is, kept praising how the brick-shaped thing is soon going change the world, envisioning how new models will become smaller and smaller over time, gain the ability to take photographs and record videos, eventually becoming miniature computers one day. Spy wondered how that could beat a raygun that can heal or a holographic disguise kit.

Sniper’s still talking. Several languages and he still can’t make out half of the slang that’s sprouting out of his mouth, either. Spy glanced back at him, but seeing the way the australian’s sprawled so casually on the bed gave him an idea. The kind that already sent him leering.  
He stood up and slowly started to sway, pretending to be suddenly interested of how the lines of his body slope as he began smoothing his gloved hands over himself, posing in every which way to give the bushman a good view.

The Sniper of course took notice of the sight, his attention starting to divert from the phone (and the elder woman’s long-winded monologue) towards the sexy man. His mind’s eye conjured the image of a bullseye painted over Spy’s shapely arse as the frenchman bent over, earning a very wide grin from him. But then Spy ducked down hiding behind the bed edge.

/Followin’ me so far?/ the voice from the phone asked.  
“Yea. Ahm here. Go on.” He quickly said, attention brought back.  
/As I was sayin’ then…/ she resumed.

However, Sniper’s attention is brought back once again to the sassy frenchman. Spy’s head peeked over the edge, waggling his eyebrows at him before rising the rest of the way revealing his trademark grin before hopping onto the mattress. Sniper’s eyes suddenly went wide and his mouth went dry at the drop-dead gorgeous sight of Spy slowly prowling towards him, very reminiscent of a big cat stalking prey. The huntsman just couldn’t tare his eyes away as Spy took his leisurely time crawling over him, ‘paw by paw’, hands curled up into faux claws and having a look in his eyes which promised very lewd and suggestive things.

/Hello? My little joey, you awroight, darlin’?/

Sniper cringed. Bloody hell. He gave up swinging into miniature hammocks long ago, he was too old for his mum to keep calling him a baby marsupial as endearment. “Yeah, mum, I’m okay.”

/You sure? Yer’ not catchin’ a cold or anything, are you?/  
“Yeah, Ahm sure.”

But then she still proceeded to count and describe several home remedies just in case. Which he couldn’t follow a word of, since he felt a leather-clad ‘paw’ roam over his chest and curl over the trail on his navel. And that didn’t stop there! The predator’s tongue glided over his abdomen up to his pectorals, and he tried holding back a moan as the woman’s voice prattled on, unaware of what’s going on o the other side of the line.

Sniper felt that very distinct sense that his pants have become a few sizes too small, that his underwear must obviously have a tent by now, as Spy started nibbling and tweaking his nipples, gently pulling at the sheer fur Sniper calls chest hair. A question from the phone grabbed the bushman’s attention once more.

“Me aunt? No, she didn’ call. …She sapposed to tell me whot? …no. What ya’ mean you assumed? Ah can’t keep calls.”

While the bushman was distracted, Spy pulled the pants and underwear down his hips, letting the other’s manhood spring up harder than Spy has ever seen it before, and the frenchman then reached for the nightstand digging his hand in the shelf.

“Naw, mum, listen. Ya’ can’ keep callin’ me like this. You know how much ‘day charge for roamin’ numbars?”  
/What am I sapposed ta’ do? You’re never at home. How am I ta’ keep in touch with you? Carrier pigeon?/

Spy found the tidbit he heard amusing as he took off his kidskin gloves, placing then aside before opening the condom package and leisurely rolling it onto Sniper. He then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and leaning over onto his hand and knees, he started fingering himself.  
The australian could barely hold it just from watching Spy pleasure himself, but then the spook had to start stroking him as well. That’s it.

“Err. Ahem. Hol’ on a sec, mum.” Sniper said before putting his hand over the mouthpiece. “Whot the bloody hell you playin’ at?”

“Isn’t theez way more fun?” Spy answered with a coy grin, pulling something out from his jacket once again.

“I’m on the bloomin’ phone! With me mum, no less! At least lemme’ finish soyin’ goodbye.”

“Oh non. Leave eet on.”

“Whot?!”

“I’ve got a plan.” Spy said as he started putting on some kind of collar with a microphone around his neck. Sniper was a bout to ask him what it was when a sound from the phone grabbed his attention once more.  
“Yeah? Oh no, mum! No worries!”

“Oh mon cher. Are you going to keep talkeeng on zat sing all day?” Spy mischievously said loudly.

Sniper froze.

/…Is someone there with you?/

But he couldn’t answer out of surprise. In fact the phone started to slip out of his hand. Because his mind just couldn’t comprehend the fact that Spy just said those words…

… In a woman’s voice.

/Is there someone there with ya’, darlin’?/

Sniper managed to get over the initial shock, and taking a second look at the high-tech looking collar around Spy’s neck, it started to dawn on him on what kind of ploy the frenchman had in mind. He picked up the phone again and hesitated a bit. “Err… yea’... I’m… WE’RE a bit busy roight now, mum.”

“Oh non, sil vu plait, it’s no trouble! I honestly thought at first eet was going to spoeel ze mood, but I admeet it’s actually kind of kinkee’…” Spy said in that stranger’s sultry voice, which, try as he might, was still a bit creepy to Sniper. The frenchman has already shook off his own pants the rest of the way by now and is straddling the other man’s hips, the cock slipping inside smoothly. Sniper bit his bottom lip trying to not groan from the heat and tightness.

This whole time there is an awkward silence from the other line before the australian heard a tentative /Wait. You’re not really… erm…/

“Yes, mum. I’m quite ‘involved’ roight now.” he said, putting emphasis on the word.

More silence… before a sudden and loud whoop of joy is heard! /Oh lucky stars! Mah little boy is finally getting’ hitched! Oh! So dat’s why ya’ve been avoidin me! How rude of me! Oh happy day!/ The ecstatic squealing continued, earning a slight snicker from Spy who’s overhearing the reaction. Sniper’s expression however was anything but overjoyed, eyebrows knitting together in exasperation.

/-am gonna’ OH whoa wait! I sure hope you ARE wearing a-/

“YES, mum. Am wearing a condom.” The bushman’s expression could best be described as peeved.

“And I’m on ze pill!” Spy leaned over and called into the mouthpiece before shaking his head in amusement. Oh mothers and their priorities. C'est la vie…

“Yeahyeah! Ya’ hear that, mum? The pill too!” Sniper quickly agreed. “Oh plus, we both ‘ad our checkups recently, so we’re both ‘clean’. So no drama!” The latter was so true, the Medic always insists on regular check-ups every week. Sniper’s starting to breathe more heavily from the slow pace Spy has set, and part of him really wishes he would just go faster.

/Whot the bloody hell you screamin’ de’re, woman? The boy’s getting’ LAID?/ a man’s voice could faintly be heard from the other line, to which Sniper cringed. Oh no. /-gimme’ the phone… ‘Ello?/

“Hi, dad.”

/Is whot she soing true? Ya’ cracked a fat an’ havin’ a root roight now?/

Spy, who is currently leaning back on his hands, riding Sniper’s cock, let out a very loud moan in that woman’s voice. The australian himself tried to smother a gasp as he felt the other man tighten up.

“Ah heheh. There’s yer’ answer, dad. Ya’ still need to ask?”

/Yer’ not in some cheap brothel screwing some hooker, are ya’?/

“DAD!”

/Heheh. Just messin’ with ya’, kid. So tell me! Whot’s the sheila like?/

“Oh… She’s a real beauty, I tell ya…” Sniper was particularly careful to say ‘she’, and watched as Spy rode him slowly, taking his breath away. “…blue eyes… black hair…” he started describing (he reckoned it would be black) between gasps. “…da’ foxiest smile ya’d ever seen...” And cue said foxy smile coming from Spy. Oh, there was no lying about that one. “… an’ got a fine pair of pointers.” he added quickly.  
/You sure they’re not Clayton’s?/  
“Yeah, am pretty sure. Real sure they’re not as I have me hand on ‘em roight now.” the bushman said with a grin, pretending to be caressing the said ‘fine pointers’ when in fact he was groping Spy’s rear as the other man still teased him so slowly.

/Ooh, sounds like quoit a looker ya snagged yerself, then. Good onya, kid! I always kinda’ thought yer’ gonna’ stay a no-hoper. Knock’em dead, boy!/ the elderly man cheered him on. “Thanks dad.” Sniper said. His dad never really did have high hopes for him, did he?  
/And ah mean ‘dead’. Not ‘up’. Ya hear me, boy? Not ‘knock up’, ‘knock dead’! Uh, not ‘dead’-dead, either. Ya’ understand-/

“Oh fer’ bloomin’- Yes, dad, I get it! Crikes. You think I’d go havin’ a naughty with no franger on my donger? Really. I’m no fruit loop! You think I’d want rug rats poppin’ up?”

/Ya’ better make sure it don’t or you’ll regret it. Believe me, ah know…/ The sound of a smack followed closely by a yelp from the senior is heard. “Heartwarmin’, pops…” Sniper sighted.

/Oh say. Can ah talk to the littl’ lady?/ the elderly man asked to which the australian looked at ‘little lady’ for confirmation, gesturing to the phone. “Well…” and Spy outstretched his hand, giving a nod. “Sure. Hold on.” he said before giving it to him.

“Bonjour? Oui, zis eez she, monsieur. …Ze accent, you say? Oh non, zat’s just me. I lived een Belfort, France and I’m steel adjusteeng to English since I moved away. …Oh why we’ve been seeing each ozer for a few months now. He eez a very chic et charmeeng young man. …and very kinkee’.” Spy then tittered to which Sniper rolled his eyes. Look who’s talking. Inwardly though, he blessed the gods that Spy is going for a mere ‘french accent’ and not a deliberate ‘phone sex operator’ voice. That would be mortifying.

“His job? Oh non, I know full well about his profession. Dangerous indeed. I’m not worried, non. Au contraire - I like zat in a man…”  
Sniper would have taken that compliment… if only the bludger hadn’t stopped moving. Oh no - you’ve got another thing coming, wanker. The bushman grabbed Spys hips and thrust upwards, angling himself in the way he knows drives the man crazy.

“-oui haute- oh Oh OH! Sacre bleu! whoa. Oh, mon amant, control yourself. What would your papa sink?” the frenchman said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.  
“That ah’m doin’ delicious things to ya’?” Sniper retorted with a just as big a smirk as the other has.

“Ohoho you sly fox… Oh, pardon? My name?” Spy then asked towards the phone. “Ingrid, monsieur. Oui. Ingrid.” Sniper rolled his eyes again, an ‘oh really’ expression evident on his face as he thrust faster, making Spy gasp.

“Oui. hah - Merci. oh ah. To ze misses? ah hah. But of course! S’il vous plait. … Bonjour, madame? Oui, zis eez Ingrid. oh-Oh ah. …Why yes. Your son eez very dynameek. …Oh we first met quite a few months ago – at ze gas station.”  
Well, yeah, that one’s true. Or more exactly UNDER it. In a secret operations base. After they filled their recruitment papers.

“…We met again some time afterward, and we traded numbers. I don’t know why but… he haz zat… ‘je ne sais quoi’. It kind of kicked off from zere, et… Voila!” and Spy let out a giggle, which from Sniper’s point of view, seemed like a dog meowing. It just wasn’t supposed to be there. “…Pardon? Oh madame. Eetz quite early, don’t you know? Sink about eet – would you not test out a new bed, zee if eetz right for you, before buyeeng eet? Or zee if ze new furniture fitz? …Oui. We will zee. Merci. Adieu.” The frenchman then handed the phone back to Sniper. “Mon amour?”

“Thanks, de facto. …Yeah? …Awright. Pleased now? There ya’ have it. Now…If ya’ don’ mind… Yeah, yeah. Toodle-oo! Luv ya’, mum. Ta.” The australian shut the phone and set it aside on the nightstand next to his hat and shades while Spy took off the collar.

“Hahaha. Didn’t even suspect a sing.” The frenchman said, finally back to his own familiar voice.

Sniper let out a hearty laugh and placed his hands back on the man’s thighs. “Ya’ bloody spook.” he snickered as he rammed upwards, making Spy gasp. “You – bloo – dy – se – xy – kin – ky – trick – ster - din – go – of – a – SPOOK!” he uttered, accentuating each pause with ram before pounding into the frenchman like there’s no tomorrow.

Spy panted heavily, almost mewling, trying to hang on the proverbial saddle as Sniper mercilessly thrust into him! Leaning back further, he almost shouted, as the pounding aimed straight for his prostate. He couldn’t hold it anymore and screamed as he came! That only prompted Sniper to go faster, twitching in orgasm afterwards.

Spy almost flopped forward onto the bushman, out of breath and trembling from the exertion. Mon dieu. He had never fucked him like that before. With such a sense of determination.

“Mon ami… If zat’s ze kind of sing zat gets you off, I might have to try an encore.”  
“Oh naw! Neva’ again, mate. We might come a gutser next time! Heavens bloody OATH you won’t!”  
Spy sighted. “Mais oui, then. Fine. No need straineeng a good relazionsheep, anyway.”

“Still. ‘Ingrid’? INGRID? …Dat’s not roilly common, mate. It’s like ya’ were plannin’ it.”  
“Perhaps. So?”  
“Ya know whot dis means, do ya’?” at that, the frenchman lifted his head to look at him, expression speculative.  
“Yer wearin’ a corset next time.”  
And Spy gasped in faux astonishment then waggled his eyebrows.

They both laughed in good humor and laid in silence for a moment before the huntsman piped up. “So whot did mum ask ya anyways?”  
“Where et when we met, ze usual… and a propos, your mozer asked when ze weddeeng’s going to be.”

“…Good gawd. Not ‘dis whinge again…” Sniper facepalmed before pulling the pillow from under his head to shove it over his face, muttering something about mothers and their expectations.

 

**The End**


End file.
